


all dressed down

by halfwheeze



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Protective Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark's Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: Tony's chest is a mess of scar tissue, and that's what he has to live with.





	all dressed down

**Author's Note:**

> This was all written in one sitting, so if you see any issues, point them out! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> trigger warnings: anxiety, body dysmorphia, self body shaming.

Tony Stark does not like what he looks like shirtless. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t think he looks good naked, because there’s more than enough to make up for up top down south, but. With just up north to look at, his chest is a mangled mass of scar tissue with a sunken in hole where the arc reactor used to take up space, and Tony never predicted liking himself less without it. He stands in front of the mirror and feels himself beginning to want to disappear, so he walks away from it. It’s always easier to keep those sinking feelings far away from himself, to pretend that it’s someone else’s body he’s looking at, even if the therapist Pepper keeps throwing at him would disagree. 

Tony doesn’t need anyone else’s opinion anyway. 

He swallows the sickness in the back of his throat and leaves the penthouse, taking the elevator down to the common floor. Sitting at the breakfast bar are two of the greatest human specimens of all time, engineered to perfection, both of whom are shirtless. Tony feels awash in his special brand of self loathing, but he pushes it down. Tony Stark does not hate himself. Stark men are made of iron. 

He flashes a grin for Bucky Barnes who always gives him the prettiest smiles, and he doesn’t even scowl at Steve Rogers, even though he sometimes wants to. It’s obvious that the soldiers have just come from the gym, both of them covered in sweat and dragging hand towels through their hair, and Tony hates himself all the more for it. He hasn’t hit the gym since his surgery, a long period of mandatory recovery for such an invasive thing, and he can’t both be an Avenger and work out. Tony had picked the one that had mattered more, though that isn’t to say that he doesn’t feel some regret now. 

“Hey Tony,” Bucky says quietly, his little smile just as pretty as it always is, and Tony likes Bucky almost as much as he hates himself. Tony nods at him and grabs a mug out of the cabinet, filling it with coffee and sipping it directly. By his guess, Bruce made the coffee. It’s almost as good as Tony’s own, which means it wasn’t Rogers or Bucky, who can’t operate a coffee maker to save their lives, it wasn’t Clint, who can’t be trusted not to drink every drop of the swill he makes, and Natasha only drinks water, though she usually drinks about a hundred and fifty ounces a day. She’s terrifying. 

“So how was the gym?” he asks, having suitably distracted himself from his thoughts by moving onto his teammates instead. It’s always fun to think about the others because of the way they have their own little habits and things that have nothing to do with him, and it’s fun for him to learn those things. He wasn’t the kind of kid who had friends when he was little, and he only had Rhodey and Pepper and Happy for his adult years, and only Rhodey ever really let him get super close, so it’s not like Tony is used to being able to learn about people. The last person who had let him in was Justin, and that was just for Tony’s help on some Hammer products when they were still just college kids. Tony doesn’t like to think about that either, so he throws the thought away. 

“Was pretty good. Beat the shit out of Stevie. He had a black eye for twenty minutes! You should have seen it,” Bucky informs him excitedly, looking everyday like a first grader at show and tell. He’s almost excited enough to be shifting in his seat, but he’s still. Rogers looks put out but Tony is grinning, trying to look at least slightly sympathetic for Rogers, but he just can’t. Especially when Rogers still has his rock hard chest out for anyone to see, and part of Tony settles down again, curling into that sick sadness that he had been doing so good to push out of himself. Bucky seems to catch the quick change in expression and he stands, keeping a smile of his face but obviously concerned. 

“Hey, Tony - can I borrow you a sec?” he asks, eyebrows creased and all. Tony nods with a confused glance of his own. Bucky almost never drags him out like this, instead opting for showing up in the workshop at odd hours of the day. With this oddity, Tony directs Friday to take them directly to his own quarters, knowing that Bucky don’t talk until they’re completely alone. This is save for the strange relationship that Bucky has with Friday, which seems like some mutually protective close friendship. Bucky is the first person besides Tony that Friday has developed a protective instinct for. 

“So what’s up, Snowflake?” Tony asks when they step out, but it’s only a moment before Bucky is grabbing his elbows, making Tony actually look at him. The metal hand on his elbow is grounding, helps Tony think, but then Tony remembers all at once that Bucky is shirtless, and he swallows instead of following his impulse to look down. “What’s up?” he repeats, cracking a nervous smile. 

“Somethin’ was botherin’ you down there, doll. Wha’s the matter?” Bucky asks, tilting his face down so that Tony has to look at him closely. The impulse to kiss Bucky is almost as strong as the impulse to look down, but Tony doesn’t follow that one either. Bucky deserves to consent to everything that happens  _ near  _ him for the rest of his life, let alone anything that happens to or with him. Tony coughs to clear his throat, pulling away as much as Bucky will let him before forcing a smile that looks a touch more real, a touch more honest and a bit less nervous. Bucky is not smiling anymore. 

“Nothing was bothering me, Buck. If that’s all, we can go back downstairs. You and R- Steve were still hanging out, right?” he suggests, but Bucky is already shaking his head, pursing his lips. He doesn’t look unlike Pepper in the moment, the looks she gives him when he won’t admit that it’s an episode that keeps him from going to a meeting, even when she can hear it in his voice. Tony winces in preparation. 

“I promise you can tell me, doll. I’m not gonna make fun or get angry, or whatever you think is gonna happen,” Bucky assures, now using the hands on Tony’s elbows to stroke upwards, up to stroking Tony’s shoulders in a reassuring fashion. Tony finds himself relaxing and he almost wants to tell Bucky. The almost isn’t good enough, and Tony looks down, not at Bucky’s oh-so-tempting chest, but all the way to the floor. Bucky uses a hand to tilt his chin back up. 

“Please,” he says, and that’s what breaks Tony. 

“You promise you won’t laugh? It’s really fuckin’ dumb,” Tony admits, biting the inside of his lips. Bucky nods and somehow looks even more concerned. It’s almost laughable but Tony is so far from laughing that the thought almost hurts. He leans against the wall that Bucky has his loosely caged against and moves one of his arms from beneath Bucky’s gentle care, using it to lift the bottom of his shirt. 

“This is the problem,” he says as the bottom of his shirt gets up to his chin, carefully not looking down at his own body. Bucky looks down and Tony waits for the disgust, closing his eyes as he’s unable to make himself continue to look at the beautiful face he wants to watch so much. He still has his eyes closed when Bucky’s hand slides up to cup his face, stroking over one of his cheekbones and silently coaxing him to open his eyes. Tony does but there are tears just waiting to be shed, ones he holds back because he doesn’t want Bucky to see this. It’s so teenage to cry about hating his body, and Tony hates himself all the more for the weakness of it. Stark men are made of iron. 

“Does it hurt you?” Bucky asks, and Tony has to think about it. He wasn’t expecting such a caring question, such a nice response at all, so he has to stack his mind for such a simple answer. 

“Only if I do too much. If I stretch the skin too much, if I try to lift too much with my arms,” he replies. Bucky leans in further, close enough that Tony can almost feel his breath. He wants to lean forward and close their distance so badly. 

“Then why is it a problem?” 

The question catches Tony completely off guard. He pushes down a thousand impulses to push Bucky away, to cut and run and hide in the workshop until his heart stops beating in his ears, because there’s no way that Bucky doesn’t see. There’s no way that Bucky doesn’t see the ugly, gnarled scar tissue wrapped in the place of the one thing that saved Tony’s life for so long, and there’s no way that Bucky doesn’t see the problem. There’s no way that Bucky can be this close to the problem and not want to be far away from it. 

“Well, Icyhot, I think that’s a little obvious,” he jokes, trying hard to distract from the sadness caught in the back of his throat, the panic building in his hollow chest. Bucky leans a little closer and catches Tony’s mouth with his own, a slow kiss taking Tony over with its warmth and it’s comfort. Tony grabs onto Bucky with the hand not still holding up his own shirt awkwardly, clinging onto Bucky. He wants Bucky to hold onto him maybe for the rest of their lives, however long that superheroes ever have left. 

“Is this okay?” Bucky asks as he pulls away, his thumb still stroking over Tony’s cheekbone with the utmost care that Tony has ever been shown, and Tony just nods. He’s at a loss for words. Bucky sustains eye contact as he lowers himself from his usual height and takes hold of Tony’s pulled up shirt with the hand not still resting on Tony’s face. Tony gasps as Bucky’s lips make contact with the center of his chest, where the scar tissue is the worst. It’s strange how sensitive it is where it should be completely devoid of feeling, and Tony wants to cry. He pulls Bucky’s face up to his. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, pressing a kiss, ever so soft, to Bucky’s mouth. There is a need for softness between the two of them, a need for something neither of them have ever had very much of before. He had never considered himself even remotely worthy of Bucky Barnes, and now that he is kissing him, the conclusion only seems more sound. Bucky is careful and sweet, more than Tony has ever deserved, and he is not worth all of Bucky’s care. But he’s not going to tell Bucky that. Bucky can decide on his own who is worth his time. 

“I just want to make you feel even nearly as pretty as I think you are,” Bucky replies when he breaks the kiss again. His voice is deeper than usual, husky, and Tony is in the shooting range of tears again. No one has ever called him  _ pretty,  _ not with so much reverence and sounding as if it’s a glorious thing, not an insult. Tony pulls him close and into a hug, letting himself relax against Bucky’s chest. Bucky lifts Tony by his thighs and carries him down the hall, Tony still slumped against him as they reach Tony’s bedroom. Tony is tired from the panic, from the sheer emotions that he’s experienced in the past ten minutes, and if Bucky wants to take care of him, he might as well let him. 

“Shirt on or off?” Bucky asks against his ear as he sets him on the bed. Tony shrugs and Bucky leaves it on, which he realises suddenly that he’s very grateful for. Tony helps Bucky by shimmying out of his pants when Bucky pulls on them, and he watches with a sort of appreciation as Bucky strips to boxer briefs as well. He makes grabby hands in Bucky’s direction, making the soldier laugh as he climbs into bed. 

“Go back to sleep, Tones. Let’s take a nap,” Bucky says, and so Tony, for once, just listens. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! Prompt me @halfwheeze on tumblr or in the comments!


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